High school maze

Penn sophomore navigates ins and outs of student life

Penn sophomore navigates ins and outs of student life

May 19, 2008|ALICIA GALLEGOS Tribune Staff Writer

First in a series MISHAWAKA -- For a moment, all is quiet along the corridors of Penn High School. Then the storm comes. Within seconds, the ringing bell unleashes a type of controlled chaos into the maze of hallways. Hundreds of voices suddenly spill out of classrooms, and shrill laughter pierces the air. Mobs of students steer through the passages, pushing each other, slapping high-fives and bumping fists as they pass. Coming down the hall on this typical Tuesday is sophomore Aubrie Lane, who is skilled at navigating through the crowds. The small blond girl carries with her a large pink bag on one shoulder and a black gym bag on the other, perfect for bulldozing through the flocks of kids. She dodges couples wrapped in each other's arms. She bypasses kids at their lockers and doesn't stop at her own. "Hi Aubrie!" a friend calls. The 15-year-old manages a wave and a smile, but her green eyes are otherwise no-nonsense as she heads toward her next class. Every second counts, and Aubrie is not about to be sidetracked. And then, just as quickly as the cyclone arrived, the second sound of a bell sweeps the hallway chaos away in less than a minute. Students duck into classrooms, race to catch a closing door and disappear into the cafeteria as another period begins. Welcome to high school. 'Classes' of high school The sprawling brown buildings of Penn High School resemble a small college, with their more than 3,000 students coming from Mishawaka, Granger and Osceola. Penn is more than 85 percent white, 3 percent Asian, 3 percent black, and 2 percent Hispanic. But students know statistics on race or residency don't cover the internal class systems of high school. Enter lunchtime. Across the cafeteria, dozens of teenagers in everything from pajama pants to jean skirts to name-brand polos pack the tables. Because of its size, Penn has three lunch periods throughout the day. Carrying her brown-bag lunch, Aubrie takes her usual seat at a long table by friend Kelsey as the two scan the crowd. They point to the hairstyles of certain students depending on their group. Athletes usually keep their hair short and cropped, they explain, while "emo's" are the boys with shaggy hair that falls in their faces. The "punk" kids are the ones with circular gauges in their ears, Kelsey says. Both girls agree that the other school groups are the jocks, the preps, the ghettos and the goths. "See, that's ghetto," Aubrie says, pointing to a boy in a basketball jersey. Of course, there are also the "wannabe jocks," Aubrie explains, the kids who act like sports stars but are "all talk and no walk." When asked which group they fall into, Aubrie and Kelsey look at each other for a moment, thinking. Aubrie decides Kelsey is a "good prep," unlike the "bad preps" who think they're better than everyone. As for herself, Aubrie figures she's "a jock, kinda preppy." Sometimes, students switch groups as the years go by, but for the most part they stay rooted in one spot. "It depends on who you are and how you act," Kelsey says. A teenage subject After almost two years at Penn, Aubrie is used to the massive student body but primarily lives her life in a smaller, more content corner. Not much fazes the 15-year-old on the surface, including having a reporter and photographer follow her around. Aubrie shrugs and shakes her head when asked whether she minds the intrusion. The teenager cares about doing well at school and does her homework (most of the time) but is neither the valedictorian type nor a potential dropout. Her grade-point average is right around 3.0. "I could do better," she says. She plays one sport -- softball -- her passion since the age of tee-ball. "That's my big thing," she says firmly. "That's huge for me." Although the bubbly teenager has a lot of acquaintances, she says she only has a few close friends. Her very best friend is Lindsey Martin, also a sophomore, who she's known since she was 8. Both are pitchers on the varsity Penn softball team. "I'm so excited this year because we both made varsity," Aubrie says with a wide smile. "I was expecting to make JV." Then there's Zach Anderson, Aubrie's first real boyfriend, a football player and junior at Penn. The couple have been dating for a year and a half, she says. At 15 going on 16, the most important things in Aubrie's life are school, softball and friends. "But not in that order," she says quickly. High school tap dance It's 12:40 p.m., and inside the small girls locker room, the murmur of high-pitched chatter and giggles is growing. The door squeaks open and closed as girls rush inside. Lockers vibrate as they're slammed shut. Seven minutes and counting until dance class starts. With expert speed, some students punch out a text message or two on their cell phones before throwing a T-shirt over their heads. Others pull on tights while passing along a fresh piece of gossip. Near the middle of the locker room, Aubrie is done chatting and is dressed in record time, dropping herself down on the dance studio floor. The students arrange themselves into separate circles around the studio, as they do every class. At the teacher's instruction, they each strap on a set of shiny, black tap shoes. Aubrie is barefoot during this particular practice due to a pair of blisters that arose from her new white sandals. As the melody begins, the sound of unified tapping echoes across the studio, with a few trailing taps from the feet behind. It's a tricky dance. They spin. They jump. They kick through shuffles and dig their heels into the floor with a simultaneous clunk. Everyone tries to keep pace while glancing at their reflections in the mirror. For the moment, despite their differences, all are dancers. Next: The weight of grades, pulleys of technology